Your Gaze
by Salome Sensei
Summary: Sango aches for Kagome's eyes upon her...and more. Oneshot that demanded to be a twoshot. Adults only.
1. Your Gaze

© Salome Wilde, 2008

© Salome Wilde, 2008

Your Gaze

Do you know, Kagome, that you never look at me? I mean really look at me. Your gaze is reserved for men. I did not realize that when we first met. You offered me such sympathy then. And I so badly needed it. I know what it is to give everything to men. I lived in a family of men and a village of man-gazers.

Of course, I kept up with them. I learned young that I was not destined to look at men but to fight beside them. And I treasure that legacy, that opportunity. Nothing pleases me more than when my body obeys my commands, lives up to my expectations and my need. Do you know what that is like, Kagome? That sense of confidence, competence, and strength? There is truly nothing like it. And it turns the gaze inward, upon yourself, so that when you turn it outward again, it comes from a place not of longing, of not-self, but of power. Knowing and valuing yourself, Kagome, makes the gaze a gift, whenever it is bestowed.

I think you do know this, a little. You are proud that you have learned to hold your bow steady, to make your arrows fly true. Your long, slender legs turn your strange wheeled conveyance across rocky paths with assurance, and you light up with pleasure at being the one to transport young Shippo. Do not think I do not see it, Kagome, the way you treat him as a precious little brother. What I wouldn't give to have Kohaku safe in my arms the way Shippo rides in that basket. But you do not think of this. Damn it, I cannot take my eyes off of you, Kagome, and I am nowhere in your field of vision.

Though you long for Inuyasha's gaze, it is I who see you. Naïve girl, how can your beloved hanyo watch you when you are always behind him? You cling to him like a child, riding his back. I could carry you, too, Kagome. But you would never have it. I fly beside you, on Kirara. But I also hold her in my lap when she wishes. She sees me and I see her for what she is. We are equals. Does Inuyasha see you so, Kagome? Does he respect you as I do, as only a woman can?

You do not watch me. How I wish you would. See in me more than a mirror of your love of men and their eyes. See this: the dance Miroku and I do is diversion. Miroku craves Inuyasha's gaze as I crave yours, Kagome. He strokes me, and he wishes it were Inuyasha he could touch. And I wish it were you touching me. He knows this. He courts my slaps, you know. The small pain is good for us both. He uses me to punish himself. I do not mind. We are siblings in suffering. And when I strike him, I release a tiny fragment of my outrage that you can deny me so completely, so easily—refusing me even the beauty of your smile unless it is to talk about Miroku. No, you will not see beneath the surface, beneath the thick blanket of your desire for the world to reflect that gaze you give to Inuyasha, to men.

There are days I am tempted to tell you I do love the monk, just to see your smile. Foolishly, he and I once came to each other in the night. Fumbling fingers, desperate mouths, sweating bodies pushing and grinding into each other's desires. But it did not help. We came back to the stroking and the slapping, the camaraderie of the rejected.

Soon, the monk and I know, Inuyasha will give in to your desire. How could he not? You call to him with your beauty, your innocence, your tenderness. Yet, you never ask yourself at what cost. How much of yourself will he take, and what can he offer you in return. Even when he turns his eyes fully to yours, Kagome, will he truly see you?

Oh, if you could look at me, really look at me, just once, perhaps you would know that it is not only the hanyo but I, too, who need your warmth and healing. If you could share just a scrap of your affections with me, Kagome, you could heal me, and find yourself.


	2. Mercy

© Salome Wilde, 2008

© Salome Wilde, 2008

Mercy

for jenerik

I cannot stop looking at your breasts, Kagome. Forgive me. Or do not. I know I am worse than Miroku for this breach. Far worse. It is expected of him, and he cares nothing for forgiveness. But I care, Kagome. I care so very much. Let me tell you, show you, just a little? When your breasts are twice bound in your strange garments, I long to free them, release them into my waiting palms, palms that are warm and moist with want. I yearn to hold them, caress them, knead them. They are so beautiful. You are so beautiful.

When we bathe together, you are merciful. You let me see them, let me see you. Naked. You strip with so little awkwardness—far less than I have—because you think only males desire you. I am nothing. But I see you blush. It is not for me. I know that. It is because we have not been taught to love our bodies, isn't it, my precious Kagome? Oh, but perhaps we can love each other's, just a little, and come to love ourselves?

When your breasts are floating at the surface of the water, I long to press them together and bring them to my mouth. I want to suck your nipples, Kagome. Can I tell you? Can you let me? I want to ask. Truly, I do. But I am afraid, afraid to tell you the truth. The truth is this: I don't only want to suck them, Kagome. I want to suckle.

I want to say, Feed me, Kagome, feed me…just a little. Those pink pearls peek from the warm water, glowing under the moon. I lose the ability to speak when I see them, see you like this. Breathtaking miko, you bring me back to the womb. Where I long to be. Take me back, girl-woman, mother-lover. Bring me to life, Kagome: save me, heal me, cherish me, as only you can, with my lips holding fast to a sweet-wet nipple as my fingers find your secret place and slip softly inside.


End file.
